


when the moon is on the run

by helsinkibaby



Category: Unstoppable (2010)
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, F/M, Het, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank meets Connie properly for the first time at the press conference. Turns out Triple-Seven's not the only unstoppable force he's going to have to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the moon is on the run

When Frank sees Connie properly for the first time, it's after he's been talking to her all day. The first he knows that she's there is when she comes over to stand beside him and Will, looking like she knows exactly who they are. He looks her up and down, his mind registering her beaming smile, sparkling eyes, long dark hair and it's only when she speaks that he makes the connection.  He recognises her voice first when she says, "Sorry? I wonder if you can help me" and it only takes him a split second to figure out who she is. 

"Connie?" He asks the question just to be sure because she's not what he was expecting and her smile widens in response as she looks at him first, then over to Will, balancing precariously on his crutches. 

"I can't decide which one of you I'm going to kiss first," Connie tells them and Frank laughs, doesn't have to think about his answer. 

"Me!" he says and Will laughs beside him. Connie throws back her head and laughs and he can't stop looking at her. 

"Problem solved," Will says, "go get him, Connie," and Connie grins.

"All right," she says, "bring it on," and she steps right up to Frank, places one hand on his right cheek and presses a kiss to his left, before covering her mouth and laughing again. Further over, his daughters catch his eye, smile and wave and Frank sees Connie looking over at them. 

"Your daughters?" she asks and he nods. She crosses her arms over her chest and grins up at him, smile turning into a laugh as the press conference goes on around them. She claps politely in all the right places, seems to be fighting the urge to roll her eyes as much as Frank and Will are, and while she doesn't join in their asides, once or twice he catches her lips twitching with amusement. 

He knew from talking to her about Triple-Seven that she was a tough woman, no nonsense, straight shooter, the kind of woman he's always appreciated. 

He hadn't expected her to be so beautiful. 

*

The second time he sees her is a week after Triple-Seven, at Judd Stewart's funeral. The previous seven days have been a whirlwind of phone calls and interviews and television appearances, to say nothing of meetings with AWVR brass who are scrambling to get back into a hero's good books. He's there with Maya and Nicole, who insist on accompanying him and he's enjoying too much being in their good books to refuse them. At the service, they sit with Will and Darcy and it's later, after the burial, that Connie appears at their side. 

He blinks when he sees her because she looks different to a week ago - then again, he figures he does too, all suited and booted to pay his respects. His suit, though, is just a fancy name for pants and a shirt, not much real difference there. Connie, on the other hand, is wearing a skirt that falls just to her knees, perfectly proper for church but showing off a pretty good pair of legs to anyone who might care to look. Heels rather than safety boots raise her a couple of inches closer to his height and her hair is held back with the same type of clip his daughters use, the kind that looks like a claw and shatters when a father's work boot stands on them when they're left lying on the floor. 

"How's the foot?" she asks Will after greetings are exchanged and Will shrugs, or as close as he can get without toppling over. 

"Getting better," he tells her. "Docs have me on some pretty good painkillers, can't feel a thing." He glances over at some of the brass who were attending the funeral. "Can you believe the nerve of Galvin?"

Frank snorts in disgust, is about to give his unvarnished opinion of the man before he remembers that his girls are standing in earshot. "Jackass." It's one of the nicer things he could say about the man but it's Connie who says it and he turns a look of mild surprise on her. "I've heard some of the things he's supposed to have said to the internal investigators," she explains. "Creative would be underselling it." Her lips are pressed into a thin line and she shakes her head. 

"People know what he did," Frank tells her. "He'll get what he deserves." He looks up at the blue sky overhead. "And I'm not going to waste another minute on him. The guys are meeting at Murphy's... give Judd a good old fashioned send off. You guys coming?"

Maya and Nicole both decline, citing work as the reason and Frank's actually glad of it - there are too many young guys working in the railway yard who are going to be at Murphy's and he'd hate to have to interrupt Judd's send off by busting someone's kneecaps because they were hitting on his daughters. Darcy cries off too, says she has to pick the kid up from her parents' house and when Will starts to apologise, he gets a surprised look on his face when she tells him that he should go. Connie's car is parked nearby so she drives them all over to the bar, gets all huffy when Frank insists on buying the first round. 

"You drove, I buy," he tells her before turning to Will and busting his chops about having him order a Coke. 

"Price of miracle tablets, man," Will reminds him, lips pursed in disgust. "Feel no pain, but consume no alcohol."

"Cure's worse than the disease if you ask me," Frank muttered, heading to the bar and leaving them to find a table. 

He finds them in a booth, Will sprawled out with his bad foot taking up all of one side so Frank slides in beside Connie, passes her a beer, slides Will over his Coke with a look that he hopes is halfway between a grin and a sneer - he understands why Will can't drink, doesn't mean he can't have a little fun though. 

The three of them talk about all kinds of things - Connie asks about Will's kid, Will's stories about crazy doctors have them laughing, while Frank tells them the kind of stories about Judd he definitely couldn't have told if his girls were around. The conversation flows as easily as the beer and the first lull only come when Connie excuses herself to visit the ladies' room. 

That's when Will leans forward, arms folded on the table and juts his chin in the direction that Connie just went. "What's going on there?" There's a twinkle in his eye that can only mean one thing and Frank lifts his beer to his lips as he shrugs. 

"Just talking," he says, eyes wide and Will snorts. 

"You and I are just talking," he says. "Connie and I are just talking. You and Connie?" He shakes his head. "Not so much." When Frank says nothing, he continues with, "You don't see the way she looks at you?"

Frank rolls his eyes, makes to grab the glass of Coke from his hand. "You got a shot of Jack in there you're not telling me about?" he asks and Will moves the glass out of his reach, sits back comfortably against the booth. 

"Look, you can try and change the subject all you like, you can call me crazy all you like, but I know what I see. She's flirting with you, she's a stone cold fox, what more do you want?"

He's all ready to parry the question, takes another sip of his beer while he considers his response. He's got a good rejoinder all ready, he's not sure who's more surprised, him or Will, when the truth emerges instead. "I'm old enough to be her father."

Now it's Will's turn to roll his eyes. "Only if you started young."

"You know what I mean. I'm twenty years older than she is, easy. Close to retirement age."

"Bullshit."

"Truth." Frank shakes his head, picks at the label of his drink. "What happened last week... Stuff like that... creates a bond. Makes people think crazy things. Even makes me think you're not so bad." The last is said with a grin, one that's returned from across the table. "But that's all the more reason to tread carefully."

Will shakes his head.  "I disagree." Off Frank's raised eyebrow, he keeps going. "This time last week, I was heading to court, Darcy wouldn't take my calls. Now we're back together and it's good. It's really good." Perhaps realising he's a shade away from too much information, he points at Frank. "Your kids were barely talking to you, you were there weeks away from being forced out of your job... now you're writing your own ticket there." He glances over towards the bar and when Frank follows his gaze, he sees he's looking at the framed eight by ten of Judd sitting in pride of place, a pint of beer beside it, an empty stool in front of it. "Life's short, man... too short."

Frank can't disagree but he also knows it's not as simple as Will is making it out to be. "I haven't dated a woman in thirty years," he reminds Will, and the younger man just grins, eyes fixed on something over Frank's shoulder. 

"What, you don't know how it works?" He looks like he's taking great delight in throwing Frank's week old words back at him. "It's a new millennium, my friend... and I think someone's about to show you the ropes."

He stops talking just before Connie slides back in the booth beside Frank. He gives her a small smile, hoping she didn't hear anything they were saying, but when he reaches for his beer, taking a deep breath as he does so, he catches the smell of her perfume. He'd noticed it earlier, when she'd kissed his cheek at the graveyard, but it's stronger now. Not overpoweringly so, but it's definitely been freshly applied.  He sneaks another look at her as she talks about seeing Dewey on the way back to the table, can't help but notice that she's fixed her hair, that an errant strand that she'd continually been tucking back is now smoothly fixed in place, that her lips are shinier, glossier than they were only minutes ago. 

He sees Will's eyes flicking between them, and when Will drains his glass of coke, starts pulling on his jacket, he resists the urge to inflict harm on the man's good leg. "I'd better go," he says, talking more to Connie and he almost looks apologetic. "Darcy will be here in a few minutes, don't want her waiting..."

Connie frowned. "She's on her way?"

Will nodded. "She called when you were in the bathroom... Michael wants me there for dinner..." He shrugs, all helpless and what can you do and if Frank didn't know for sure that he was lying through his teeth, he'd actually have believed him. "I'll catch you guys soon." He flags down a passing waitress, orders another beer for Frank and Connie and then he's gone as fast as two crutches and one good leg can carry him. 

Connie frowns after him. "You think he'll be ok waiting for her?"  

"You kidding me? Boy's the only sober one here." Frank's not drunk, not by a long shot, but he's definitely feeling the effects of the beers he's had. If he wasn't, he'd probably have made some excuse and left with Will, even if he suspects the younger man would have threatened to beat him with his crutches if he'd tried it. 

Connie nods, but keeps her eye on Will until he vanishes from sight, then glances back at Frank. "What about you?" She takes a sip of her beer. "You meeting your daughters for dinner?"

Frank chuckles because he can't remember the last time they had a family dinner. "They're both working tonight," he tells her. "They're waitresses." He leans closer to her as if he's about to tell her a secret. "At Hooters." Her jaw drops a little and he continues with a shrug. "Me seeing them for dinner could easily start World War Three."

Connie laughs at that, moves her head in a way that's somewhere between a nod and a shake. "I gotta say, you're taking that way better than my dad would have." Another laugh, and Frank thinks he could get used of hearing that sound. "If I'd told him I was working there, I wouldn't have lived to see my first shift."

Truth is, he'd been closer to her dad's reaction than she thinks. "I wasn't happy about it," he admitted. "Still not. But it pays well and they like it, got one other to watch their backs... our deal seems to be I don't ask, they don't tell and we all get to sleep at night."

"Good deal."

There's a moment of silence where he runs what she just said through his head. "Your dad... you were close?"

He's assuming, from the phrasing she used, that her dad's passed on; the sad smile that tugs at her face confirms it. "Youngest of four. Only daughter," he says simply and he feels himself grin because he knows how that ends. 

"Daddy's girl."

"Abso-fucking-lutely!" She says it with a laugh, with a sense of unmistakable pride.  "He used to work on the railroads too... New York State first, then we moved here not too long after I was born." Her gaze drops to her beer bottle, her fingers worrying the label.  "Mom passed first... cancer. Dad had a heart attack a year later." She shrugs, but there's a pain in her eyes that all the bravado in the world can't hide. "He had six months after that, but he was never the same." Another shrug. "I always say he couldn't live without her." 

Frank nods. "That's tough... that's tough," he sympathises. "You're close to your brothers?"

Connie wrinkles her nose. "Close enough. They're all married, they've got kids... Who love their crazy spinster aunt, don't get me wrong.... What?" His laugh, deep and surprised, is what prompted the question and he points at her. 

"Crazy and spinster are not the first things that come to mind when I talk to you," he tells her and he realises too late what it sounds like, resolves that this next beer will be his last. He considers telling her that he didn't mean it like that, but then her cheeks flush with what is a definitely pleased expression on her face.

Hell, in vino veritas, or something like that, right?

"Thanks," she says, ducking her head. "I think." 

"Come on, spinsters are ninety years old... living alone, just them and their knitting and their cats..." He pauses, considering something exaggeratedly. "You don't have a cat, do you?"

Narrowed eyes have no effect when they're over a smile that big. "A dog, actually. Rescue mutt called Rex. Very loyal. And I have no idea how to knit."

"See? Definitely not a spinster."

They share a smile as the waitress interrupts them with another beer and when Connie speaks again, it's with a nonchalance so at odds with they way they've just been speaking that Frank knows what she's going to say before she says a word. 

"Your wife?"

He looks down, memories of Alice not evoking the same pain they usually did. "Passed four years ago. Cancer."

"I'm sorry."

"Can't complain too much," he says. "We had twenty nine good years together, two beautiful girls, lotta people would give their eye teeth for that." His gaze moves over to the bar again, to Judd's picture, another life gone too soon, more memories that would never be made. "Just gotta keep remembering that... appreciate the things that come your way."

"Yeah." His gaze comes back to Connie, to her dark pensive eyes before moving down to her lips and the urge to kiss her comes over him, powerful and sudden. Something of his desire must show in his face because her eyes widen almost imperceptibly as her breath hitches and he leans in...

And just as quickly pulls back, mindful suddenly of where they are, that half the rail yard is in this bar and they don't need to make themselves the centre of attention. He sees disappointment flare in her eyes, clear as day and he looks away, grabs his bottle of beer and takes a long drink. 

Connie steers the conversation back onto safer ground with a question about whether or not the brass at AWVR have been in touch with him. Which leads nicely into a story about how they were grovelling to take back his redundancy letter, how it looked like he was actually going to be promoted. She tells him that Galvin, for all his bluster to the investigators, looks like being fired for not listening to the people like Frank who told him that derailing the train at Arklow would never work. Dewey, of course, had quietly had his employment terminated the day after the incident. 

The conversation flows easily then, everything back to normal and they have another beer, grabbing some sandwiches and sharing a plate of fries with one another. That beer is almost finished when he suggests another and she looks like she's going to say but then she looks at her watch and makes a face. "I should get going," she says and she sounds like she regrets having to say it. "I have a shift tomorrow."

They've put Frank on leave until they can figure out what to do with him so he doesn't have that problem but he stands up with her anyway. "You're not driving..." he begins and she cuts him off with a shake of her head, but none of the irritation he might have expected had he said that to either Maya or Nicole.

"Definitely not a good idea," she says as she reaches for her coat. "I'll hail a cab out front, pick my car up in the morning."

He nods. "I'll walk you out."

She looks surprised but happily so. "You don't have to," she says and he lifts an eyebrow. 

"With these chuckleheads here?"

"It's my job to handle chuckleheads," she tells him and he surprises her again when he takes her coat out of her hands, holds it out for her. 

"Humour me," is all he says as he slips the coat over her shoulders and she turns to him, pulling her hair out from under the collar, a pleased smile on her lips, a flush to her cheeks that wasn't there a moment ago and she nods her head. 

Once outside, she pulls her coat further up around her neck against the sudden chill, and Frank shoves his hands in his pockets. At this time of the night, taxis are easy to come by and Frank sees one approaching, light bright in the distance. "Looks like it's your lucky night," he tells her pointing, and she smiles. 

"I hope so."

Then she steps closer to him, close enough to touch and, standing up on her tiptoes, she kisses him. 

It starts off as tentative, almost nervous, like she's afraid he's not going to respond, like he doesn't want to her to kiss him. When his hands leave his pockets though, settle on her hips and pull her closer as he deepens the kiss, she gets the message that this is something he really does want. He feels her lips curve into a smile as her arms wind around his neck and he doesn't think of anything else but her. 

He doesn't know how long it is before they pull away from each other and this time there's no mistaking the flush on her cheeks. "So," she says, pulling something from her coat pocket and pressing it into his hand. "This is my number. You should call me."

He glances down at it and in the light from the bar he can see the digits, printed neatly on a scrap of notebook paper that would not be found in a ten mile radius of the bar. The idea that she had this prepared, ready to give to him, has him smiling like a damn teenager. "I will call you," he says,  leaning down and brushing another kiss over her lips. "I will definitely call you," he says as he hails her a cab, puts her inside. 

He doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the night. 

*

Of course, in the cold light of day, it's not as easy as all that. Frank knows he's being ridiculous about it - after all, she had her number ready to give to him, she kissed him - but every time he thinks about calling the number, something stops him. Which isn't something he's used to, because all his life, he's been the one who goes for things, who is confident, who doesn't let himself be put down by anything or anyone. But what he'd said to Will was the honest truth - he hasn't looked at anyone other than Alice is more than thirty years and Connie, he already knows, is not just anyone. 

His front door opening interrupts his thoughts and he smiles when he hears Maya's voice calling down the hall. "Hey, Dad, just me." 

"In the kitchen," he replies, hand automatically going for the kettle, a habit of Alice's he's never quite been able to quit. 

Maya takes her coat and scarf off as she walks, hangs it over the back of one of the chairs before kissing his cheek. "I just wanted to see how you were after yesterday," she says, holding up a small box. "I brought Advil just in case."

There's a cheeky grin on her face that Frank recognises from photos of himself as a youngster. "Not required, young lady,  but thank you all the same." He stares her down. "Maybe you should hold on to it for your sister and her new fancy man."

"Oh no." Maya holds up both hands and laughs. "You want details, you ask her yourself, I'm not getting involved." She turns to one of the kitchen cupboards, gets down two mugs as he fixes a pot of tea. "Way above my pay grade."

He recalls suddenly his conversation with Connie last night about their job and his reaction to it and he smiles to himself. "Maybe I'll do that," he says and Maya grins. 

"Then I'm definitely keeping the Advil," she jokes and they share a smile. Then she eyes him critically. "You don't look hungover," she decides and he wonders when she started being allowed to talk to him like that. 

"It was a very respectful send off," he tells her and she rolls her eyes. 

"Sure." She moves away towards the door. "That reminds me, I'm heading to the dry cleaners on my way home, I'll drop your suit in for you." She grins that same devilish grin. "You're going to want it nice for all your public appearances."

"I can do that," he begins but stops in his tracks when she gives him a look that is eerily reminiscent of her mother. It had been Alice's "shut up and do what I say" look and Maya had obviously taken serious lessons. 

"But would you have?" There's no reply to that so he lets her go, has two mugs of tea filled and a plate of biscuits on the table before she returns. 

When she does, there's a funny look on her face, halfway between a smile and not. "Connie," she says and his heart actually feels like it stops for a second when he sees the piece of paper in her hand. "That's the lady who was with you yesterday right? And at the press conference?" 

He nods, swallows hard. "You always go through someone's pockets?"

Her eyebrows approach her hairline. "When I'm bringing something to the dry cleaners, yes, and lucky for you I did or this-" She hands it over to him. "-would have been confetti." He folds the paper without looking at it, puts it into his shirt pocket. For a moment he's not sure what to say - this is not a conversation he was expecting to have - but Maya saves him with a quiet, "She's pretty."

"Yes." Frank sits down at the table heavily, motions for her to do the same. "Yes, she is."

Maya sits in the chair next to his, a hesitant grin hovering around her lips. "You should call her," she says and he wasn't expecting that either. "We saw you two, at the press conference. We were wondering..."

Frank shakes his head. "Maya..."

"I know, I know, you haven't been on a date since the Reagan administration..."

"Carter, actually."

"Whatever." Maya waves her hand. "Dad, you deserve this." She swallows hard, looks down at the table. "Mom's been gone for four years. And she would have wanted this for you." She looks up at him then and he feels his face go slack with surprise. "She did want this for you."

"What do you..."

"She told me... and Nicole... that when the time came, we should make sure that you found someone else. She said you were no good on your own." He chuckles at that, because it's something Alice would definitely have said, had said to him often, even if he'd managed to forget about that over the years. "And that we might need to give you a shove in the right direction." 

"So this is you shoving?"

She nods firmly. "This is me shoving." She points to his pocket. "You should call her. Today. It's a d... jerk move if you wait." Her stutter has her cheeks flushing crimson and he pretends to not notice it, grateful that there are some lines she still won't cross with him. Then she tilts her head, wrinkles her nose. "We're not going to have to have the safe sex talk, are we?"

For a moment, he thinks she's serious, then he sees her eyes. In seconds, he's laughing and she's joining in. 

When Maya leaves, he takes a deep breath, finds his cell phone and dials the number. 

"Hello?" 

There's noise in the background, like she's moving and he remembers that she was at work this morning. "Connie? It's Frank."

"Hi!" Her smile comes down the line. "I was wondering if you'd call me."

A white lie appears to be in order. "I was trying to wait til your shift finished," he says. "Guess I mistimed it, huh?"

"Another hour to go." He can picture her, just from the tone of her voice, lips pursed, staring regretfully at the clock. 

"You get your car ok this morning?" he asks and there's a rueful chuckle from the other end of the line. 

"I didn't have time," she admits. "Hit the snooze button one too many times. I'll get a cab over after work, unless someone's heading in that direction..."

"I'll pick you up." The words are out of his mouth before he can think about it and there's a moment of silence where he thinks about taking them back, but holds his tongue.  

"I didn't mean-" she begins and he cuts her off. 

"I know that, I know that. But I have all this paid time off and I don't have any plans so..." He shrugs, lets his voice trail off and after another few seconds of silence, he hears her smile when she speaks. 

"Ok... and you can follow me back to my place after, you can have dinner." Frank's eyebrows go all he way up at that and he forces himself to listen as she continues, "I took a lasagne out of the freezer this morning, it was going to be my dinner for the next couple days, but hey, I can share..."

He finds himself nodding. "That sounds good."

*

He's sitting waiting for her when her shift finishes, surprised at the smile that comes to his face when he sees her exiting the train yard. He's a grown man, for Christ's sake, got two grown up kids, he's too old to be acting like some soppy teenager. He manages to school his features into something approaching a normal expression as she approaches the car, eyes moving this way and that and he knows when she realises which car is his, that he's waiting for her, when her eyes meet his and a huge smile spreads across her face. It's the same smile he saw the first time he met her at the press conference, the one she smiled when she spoke to him and Will, all sass and sparkle, when she kissed him on the cheek. 

He can't help himself; he smiles right back. 

They make small talk all the way back to the bar and he has to stop himself from walking her back to her car - it's broad daylight after all, and if she didn't want him walking her out last night, she surely wouldn't welcome it now. He follows her home easily enough, parking his car behind hers in the driveway of a small two-storey house a short drive away from the train yard. 

"Be it ever so humble," she says as she unlocks the front door, leaning down to scoop up her mail from the hall floor. 

Frank tries to be a gentleman and not stare as she bends over. 

It doesn't quite come off. 

Thankfully, she doesn't look back and catch him in the act, but as she turns to go into the kitchen, he can see a smile on her profile, see that her cheeks are slightly flushed and he wonders for just a minute if she knew the effect she was having on him.

Then a blur of white and brown and black leaps up on him, barking and licking and Frank is laughing, Connie joining right along with him. 

"Rex, I assume," he says, scratching the dog behind his ears. 

"He likes you," Connie tells him as she continues into the kitchen, flicking on the oven before going to the fridge and removing a baking dish covered with aluminium foil. 

Frank blinks. "This lasagne is homemade?" When Connie nods, he continues, "I was expecting something from a box."

"Bite your tongue." Connie puts the dish beside the oven, tossing the foil in the trash before going back to the fridge. "You want a beer?"

Accepting the beverage, they clink bottles and Connie turns back to the oven, puts the lasagne inside before returning to the fridge, starts pulling out food. "I hope salad's ok?" 

It is, and he helps her prepare it, chopping tomatoes and peppers while they chat about his day and hers, and news of Galvin's firing has them drinking a toast to cosmic justice. It seems like no time until the dinner is ready and they sit at the table together, conversation flowing easily as their laughter.

Afterwards, she offers him another beer and he's tempted, but he declines with a look to the front door, remembering his car outside. "Coffee it is," Connie says instead, sending him into the living room while she makes it. Rex follows him, stands beside him as Frank studies the pictures on the wall, on the mantelpiece, the dog's tail making a rhythmic swishing sound as Frank reaches down and idly scratches his head. 

He turns when Connie comes in, grins as he sees the tray she's carrying, two steaming mugs of coffee and two plates of apple pie. "You tell me that's homemade too and I might never leave." The words are out before he can think and he wants to take them back but she doesn't look upset by them - instead she just smiles. 

"Store bought." She makes it sound like an apology. "Maybe next time."

Frank's not going to lie - he likes the sound of that. 

They have their dessert and they talk some more and he knows it's getting late, is about to stand up and go when she leans over during a rare lull in the conversation, pressing her lips against his. His arms go around her and he pulls her closer, deepening the kiss and when she pulls back, all he can see is her smile. 

"I've been wanting to do that all night," she tells him and he chuckles. 

"Well, you should've," he says and she laughs at that, laughs until he kisses her again and then it's not a laughing matter any more. 

The next time she pulls away from him, she's practically sitting on his lap, his hands underneath her shirt, her hands underneath his. Standing, she takes his hand, leads him to the foot of the stairs. 

"Connie." She's a couple of steps above him, turns and looks at him. She must see something in his expression because her eyebrows draw down in a frown. He's not sure how to put into words what he's feeling, but what comes out is, "I never fooled around on my wife."

She looks at him like he's speaking a language she's never heard. "I never..."

He shakes his head, cuts her off. "I never fooled around on her in nearly thirty years," he says, and he thinks he sees her face clearing. "And since she's been gone..." Connie moves until she stands in front of him, puts her hands on his shoulders and her smile is soft as she touches his cheek. 

"I've never seen you nervous," she whispers and he shrugs, presses his cheek into her palm. 

"It's been a while," he concludes, almost embarrassed to admit it, because he's a man's man, always has been and he's not so good with emotions, with feelings. 

But whatever this is between them, whatever it might be growing, he thinks he owes her the whole truth. 

She doesn't look like it's scaring her off, not when she runs her hands down his arms, takes both her hands in his. "I'll be gentle," she promises, teasing, tugging at his hands gently as she leads him up the stairs. 

He's not sure that it's a promise that she keeps, or rather, it's one that they break together. But later, much later, when he is lying in her bed, when she lies by his side with her head nestled on his chest, both of them sated and sleepy, she giggles, soft and sweet. "So, was it worth the wait?"

He doesn't have to think about his answer. "Every second."

**Author's Note:**

> For the October challenge at One Million Words, I got the Ben E King song, "Spanish Harlem." The same day, I watched Unstoppable and as always, I shipped a Frank and Connie and wanted to know what happened to them agfter the end of the movie. Since the song is about longing and loving someone from afar, this is what came out of the challenge... Not quite what I had in mind when I planned it, but such is life!


End file.
